Click here for Italian/original version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/03/04/poesia-nonpossofarciniente/
” I can’t help it”.
and I hate this,
I hate that I can’t do anything.
It tears me apart, destroys me.
“I really can’t do anything?”
I ask myself, sometimes.
“Or I just didn’t find the right way?”
It is all really so clear,
defined, no shadow of a doubt,
everything in line, except me.
Always me, indeed.
Always me with this feeling of losing,
I wanna know the truth, uncover it.
I want to know if there is only one way,
or there’s more.
Everything is only in one way in life?
Or everything is really possible?
Will it all remains the same?
Or could I win the war I’ve lost?
I still feel the energy, the willing to fight.
I’m so full of doubts.
I need to see further, beyond.
Beyond those limits…
I can’t help it, resing, give up.
I’ve created an identity,
so strong that I doubt about everything, everyone,
except me, what I feel, what I want…
And all the wars I need to win.